This is basically just my story of Trinity's life before the movie. This chapter really doesn't seem like it has too much to do with the Matrix, but this is kinda the start of everything. Anyway, it'll definitely be more Matrix-oriented in the next chapter.

Revised version of chapter.

***

Death and Rebirth

Chapter One

Betrayed

***

She was, for lack of a better description, two people in one body.

One of those people was a natural-born warrior. Silent, watching and listening with an inhuman attentiveness. That person had been watching and listening for her entire life, letting any questions she had be answered without even asking them. She had eyes and ears that had learned to tell your thoughts, just by paying close attention. And yet for someone so adept at reading other's emotions, it was truly impossible for anyone to do the same to her, lest she allow them to.

And she never did.

She had feet that could creep over hollow metal silently, climb the oldest of stairs without making a single squeak. She had a body that could be standing right next to you, and you'd never know she was there. A body that could sneak away from you, past your very eyes, that could stand in the shadows for an eternity, unnoticed, giving her an unusual and rare access to knowledge of things no one else could, or would, ever know.

And then there was her mind. Sharp, cunning and quick. It was truly one-of-a-kind, with abilities like no other. Given the appropriate time to sort it through, she could solve any problem, create any number of solutions. She could think on her feet, make connections no one else could. It was that razor-sharp mind that shielded the entire of her in an impenetrable armor. That mind that gave her her constant vigil, her strength. Her never-ending faith in whatever she did. It was also that mind that kept the other part of her hidden.

The other part of her was a young woman. Someone that could be described as normal, only better. A woman who cared for others, watched over them silently. Who stepped in to help, and receded into the shadows once her purpose had been fulfilled. A woman who was afraid of things, had worries and doubts, which only served to further make her human.

These two sides of her intermingled the slightest bit. The warrior gave the woman strength and courage. The woman gave the warrior a drive to fight endlessly for what she knew was right. Like yin and yang - a tiny piece of one within the other.

Unfortunately, that tiny piece of the young woman within her was all that was ever allowed to show, ever able to show. Her life just couldn't allow for anything else. And strangely, ironically almost, her "life" now, and her life in the future would present you with the opposite of the person you would expect to encounter. Now, she was purely warrior. But, over the years, more and more of the woman would be able to show through.

***

Nothing about Amelia Harper's life was anything close to what could be deemed "perfect." She lived in an older, less prosperous New York City suburb. Fights sometimes broke out near her apartment, more than a few resulting in a serious injury. But these had become part of her daily life, and ambulances never surprised her anymore. There had been fights at her schools, too. Just stupid little ones in elementary school. Things like there only being one ball left, but two groups of kids who wanted to play with it; then the "leaders" of those groups would end up tackling each other to the ground. The teachers usually broke those up, leaving only bruises, but in her mind, they happened too often. Then in middle school, the teachers didn't seem to care as much. Those were the fights that ended in black eyes and bloody noses. Those were the fights that the teachers put second to whatever they were presently doing, allowing them to go on longer than they should. They never really paid any attention to them unless someone brought a knife or some other kind of weapon. That happened far to often as well.

That was why, when an inner-city private high school had gotten wind of Amelia's grades and offered her a scholarship, her mother was ecstatic. She talked of nothing for days, telling everyone she knew. Amelia didn't know which was a bigger factor in her mother's elation: the fact that it meant she wouldn't have to worry as much about her daughter's safety, or the fact that "her little girl" had been asked to attend the one of the best schools in the city. She couldn't quite tell.

What she could tell was that the only reason the school wanted her was to keep up appearances, raise their standards and statistics and all that other pretentious crap. She wanted no part in that, would much rather go to the high school where she had spent her freshmen year. But her mother would hear none of it.

This was her baby's big chance, she said.

This was her baby's ticket to success, she said.

This way her baby would be safe, she said.

Eventually she just went along with it - the fight wasn't worth the gain. And going to this new school would have it's upsides. She wouldn't have to watch the daily fights. They shook her to the core, though no one knew that. She didn't find classes particularly enjoyable, not difficult, just boring. But at least here she wouldn't have to look at blank stares of people only there because the government said they had to be.

What she did not count on, however, was the whole new set of challenges that awaited her.

***

She was the exact opposite of every other girl there. Where they were rich, she was poor. Where their parents owned entire floors of condo buildings, hers could barely make rent on their tiny two bedroom apartment. Their shoes cost hundreds of dollars for a single suede pair, while she still wore the combat boots she had had for three years. They wore the latest and greatest from Madison Avenue. Her wardrobe, not including winter outerwear, contained exactly seven pairs of blue jeans, four dyed black jeans, nine t-shirts, six basic tank tops, five long sleeved shirts, and two denim jackets, one dyed black. Your most basic of wardrobes, half of which she had bought with her own hard-earned money.

Those were, however, about the only places in which they outscored Amelia. They envied and hated her in every other department.

They didn't give a damn about their grades. Neither did she. And yet, while she got A's across the board, few of the rest averaged above a C.

Even with their best-of-the-best dermatologists, prescription medicine, and department store makeup, they came nowhere near Amelia, who had none of it, and didn't need it anyway. This natural beauty, coupled with her kick-ass attitude, had about half the boys in school turning their heads when she walked by. She would ignore them, and treat them like the scum of the earth, and ironically only make them want her more. Their girlfriends' glares were almost enough to rival Amelia's trademark "Scary Face"... but not quite.

And thus, the classic, never-ending downward spiral.

But Amelia didn't really care that they hated her. She didn't want any part in their world. It consisted of nothing but an eternal game of backstabbing. You climb your way to the top of the popularity ladder, shoving everyone else out of the way. And then, once you got there, there were only two things to do: flirt with the most popular boy in school, whoever it happened to be that week, and get thrown back into obscurity by whoever managed to worm their way into your old place.

It was, to simplify it, stuck-up, snobbish, mundane, predictable and downright idiotic. And what was the point, anyway?

***

There was, however, a bright spot in the nightmare that had become Amelia's life. Three months into the school year, Kelly Miller was accepted on scholarship.

Kelly and Amelia had lived down the hall from each other since they were both ten, making theirs a friendship of almost five years. Their mothers had become friends, and would sometimes drag the two girls along with them, putting them into a friendship of their own. Each girl was the only friend the other had ever had.

There was no other way to describe the pair: Soul Sisters. Separated at birth. They were identical. Both were fighters, quick witted and brilliant. Both had a habit of acting cold and indifferent, being decent only to the people they knew they could trust. And neither would take any kind of crap from anyone.

But they were simultaneously exact opposites. Where Amelia was a silent observer, Kelly was loud and direct. One would bide her time, carefully planning, the other would jump in at the first opportunity and go from there.

The were that way physically, too. Both were slim, not skinny, with just a hint of extra muscle on them. They were tall, and almost perfectly proportioned, and both had short halos of hair around their heads. Amelia, on the one side, had ice blue eyes and extremely fair skin. Kelly had hazel eyes, and a slightly more tanned complexion. The biggest difference in their appearance, however, was their hair. While Amelia's was jet black, Kelly's was a natural blonde so pale it looked white.

And now, thank God, they were going to the same school once again. They had been spending less and less time together in recent months, as most of the time they would normally spend together was at school. Amelia wasn't the clingy or dependant type, but it was just getting so boring, not having anyone to talk to at school. And as an added bonus, she would now have someone to listen to her snide little remarks about the stupid daily lives of the "Other Half."

***

Amelia's parents always fought. At least once a week, usually more. It had been that way since before she could remember. Their fights were the reason she had learned to be so silent. Every time they fought, she would have to sneak from one part of the apartment to another, without being noticed. With some of the smaller fights, she'd stay in the corner of the room and watch, and they'd be completely unaware of her. Other times, with the bigger, more serious fights, she would sneak off into her room until it stopped, drowning out the sound as best she could with her walkman radio turned up as loud as it would go.

That didn't always work, though. She would catch bits and pieces of their yelling once in a while, between songs or commercials. Usually her father, since he did most of it, and was almost always the one who started the fight.

She really didn't understand what her mother saw in that man in the first place. There wasn't even a way to describe him at all politely. But to be blunt about it, he was... repulsive, at least to Amelia. She couldn't remember him having a decent job in her entire life, nor could she remember one holding out for longer than six months. He always blamed that on her mother, God knows why. He blamed everything else on her, really. He blamed her very loudly, too, making a big scene, sometimes pushing her around, maybe hitting her. She got bruises from time to time; much more often, lately.

And the worst part was, she just took it. She never tried to defend herself, and God forbid she fight back.

Fight back, just like she wasn't doing right now.

***

She hadn't expected a fight right now. Her mother would be home, as she was working the night shift for the next few weeks. But her father, apparently, had gotten himself fired from yet another job. So they were both home, and fighting.

Amelia blocked out their voices as best she could on her own. She was quickly changing into black jeans and a white long sleeve shirt - her work clothes. She took the small, black leather backpack from it's place on the back of the door handle and went around the room, filling it, pace quickening the closer the yelling got. Mostly just her wallet and walkman, and the book she had been assigned for school.

Lifting the windowpanes open, Amelia climbed out onto the fire escape with practiced moves. She had come to the conclusion long ago that she used this exit from the apartment far too much. Putting the headphones over her ears, she gave her bedroom window a final glance before moving off to the nearest subway station.

***

"How much money do you have saved up, anyway?"

Amelia sat down next to Kelly at the counter, pushing the coffee mug towards her, and began the long and repetitive process of rolling the silverware into napkins.

"About two thousand," she replied. "I'll get another fifteen-hundred or so by the end of the year, that'll be enough."

"And we still have absolutely no idea where this obsession with getting a motorcycle comes from?" Kelly, as usual, put double cream and sugar into her mug, and stirred the coffee slowly.

"None whatsoever."

"So you just woke up one day and said to yourself, 'Self, I think we should get a motorcycle as soon as we hit sweet sixteen, so start saving up now'?"

"More or less." There was a barely detectable smirk on Amelia's face as she put a finished silverware roll into the small pile.

"And only ten more months to go until you can buy it."

"Only. Sure, Kelly"

"But they pay you well, right?"

"As well as a coffee shop can pay, yes."

"But it's a New York City coffee shop," she pointed out casually.

"Your point, please?"

"Well," she said, taking another drink of coffee and then putting it down, "they value good service, so they're probably going to promote you in a couple of months and that means you'll get paid even more. You'll have not only enough money for a bike, but also a helmet for your best friend. Your best friend who'll, I assume, get all the rides she wants?"

Amelia stopped her movements and just stared.

"I just mean," Kelly recovered quickly, bringing herself back to the subject, "that they like good customer service, and you've got it. You're not a complete ice queen to the nice people, and with the others, well... you're good at tolerating them."

"How d'ya figure?" She resumed her rolling.

"You go to school on the Upper-East side -" Kelly said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world "- and you don't live on the Upper-East side. You have to be able to tolerate people to do that."

"So do you, but you can't tolerate anyone."

"And that's the difference between you and me," she said proudly. "You deal with the people you don't like; I simply stay as far away from them as I can."

Amelia was silent. She sighed quietly but heavily, suddenly reminded of the day's earlier events. She stayed away from people, too. But only two specific people, and only for one reason.

Kelly stopped, and looked her face over carefully. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." An untrained ear would believe that statement. Kelly didn't. And it wasn't too hard to guess what was bothering her. She was quiet for a moment, judging what to say.

"My mom said they've been fighting more lately. She said she heard them coming home."

She had learned to take Amelia's silence and supposed oblivion to what she had said as a yes. She didn't say anything more.

***

Amelia sighed and rubbed her eyes as she finished the assigned chapter of the book she was reading, putting it down on the fire escape step. To Kill a Mockingbird really wasn't that bad of a book, but it just didn't interest her. Novels never did. They just made the feeling stronger.

Kelly had asked her what "feeling" she was talking about once. It had been hell trying to explain back then, but she felt she could do better now. It was the feeling that something about the world was just... wrong. Something was amiss, but she could never put her finger on it. Everything just felt... unreal, if that was possible. The only example she was able to give was when, from time to time, she would be going about her day normally, and for no apparent reason, everything would get all weird. She would see things clearly, but her mind would barely register them, the same with her hearing. She felt as if she was inside of a dream, trying to wake up.

Sometimes the feeling lasted a few seconds, sometimes a few minutes. But the best she could do was describe it to Kelly - she had never felt that way.

That was why she never liked novels: that feeling she had made the world feel false and unreal, and reading about a world you know is unreal just heightened that feeling.

She let her eyes wander around the back walls of nighttime apartment buildings, and they fell onto the window of Kelly's living room. She was sitting at the table, headphones on, reading as well. Her parents and bratty little brother were on the couch. She couldn't see the TV, but Amelia knew what they were watching, Kelly had told her earlier: Terminator. From the looks of it, Kelly had purposely waited until now to read. ("AI robots taking over the world and wreaking havoc on society, like that's gonna happen.") She gave a small smirk, remembering her friend's words.

She looked up at the sky. It was clear tonight, and for New York, you could see the stars pretty well.

Climbing back inside the window, Amelia tossed the book towards her backpack, and got her jacket off the back of the desk chair. Outside, she made quick work of climbing from the fifth story fire escape to the roof of the ten-story building. From there, she climbed onto the roof of the stairwell that led here from inside the apartments.

For the kind of neighborhood she lived in, it certainly had a great view. Sitting right where she was, you could see the Statue of Liberty and the buildings of the main city, all lit up. The entire building came up here on the Fourth of July, and for New Years, to see the fireworks, but tonight she was left alone with her thoughts, just the way she liked it.

***

Kelly glanced at the TV on the other side of the room. Where did people come up with the ideas of machines ruling the world? It was ridiculous. Not to mention it would never happen.

She pulled her attention away from the movie and back to To Kill a Mockingbird.

"Our father had a few peculiarities: one was, he never ate deserts; another was that he liked to walk. As far back as I -" the line stopped at the end of the page, and she continued reading at the top of the next.

It started on a whole new sentence.

Kelly's eyes narrowed and she checked the page numbers. The first was 148, then... 157. She glared down at the book, then dropped it on the table.

"Figures," she said, pulling off the headphones.

"What?" Her brother, Billy, looked over his shoulder at her from the couch. The movie was on a commercial now.

"You'd think that a book from a school in the Upper-East side would be new and in perfect condition. And here I am, missing eight whole pages." She was at the door by now. "I'm gonna get Amelia's and read off of that."

She walked down the hall at a leisurely pace, slowing even more when she reached the side hallway that lead to Amelia's place. But by the time she reached apartment 513, she could hear yelling from her friend's, 520.

Kelly had heard Amelia's parents fight before, rest assured, but never this loudly. Or, she thought with slight fear, this violently. She put her ear to the door for a moment, listening.

Then she bolted back the way she came. This was not good.

She burst back into her own apartment, not bothering to close the door behind her. She ignored her parents' barely decipherable questions and went out onto the fire escape, not even waiting to open the living room window all the way. She didn't bother to muffle the sounds of her feet as she ran the length of the fire escape, around the bend of the building and to Amelia's bedroom window.

A split second look inside told her that she wasn't there, meaning that there was only one other place that she could be.

***

Amelia lay sprawled on her back, hugging her jacket tightly around her, looking up at the moon. It was almost full.

She had been lost in thought, but was quickly pulled out of it by the sound of hurried footsteps on the fire escape. She sat up just in time to see Kelly come over the ladder and onto the roof.

"Amelia," she said breathlessly, "your parents are fighting. I've never heard them like this."

She was already climbing down the stairs, Kelly close behind. She took the flights in leaps and bounds, skipping two and three steps at a time, jumping the last five or so.

She made it to her bedroom window on the fifth floor in less than a minute. She bounded towards her bedroom door, reaching for the handle. Just as she was about to turn it, she stopped. Something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

There was no yelling. There was no shatter of breaking glass. No angry shuffle of feet as arguing people moved about. Only a low, angered muttering, her father cursing under his breath.

"Ame-"

"She's not here," she said shortly, turning on her heel.

She flew down the next four flights of stairs even faster than before, adrenalin coursing through her, stronger and stronger. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She couldn't explain how she knew, it was just a gut instinct. Her mother had left the apartment after fights before, no harm done, so she dreaded to think why this fight might be different.

She did not even stop to think about her next move when she had gotten to only a single level above ground. Not slowing her pace in the slightest, she jumped over the rusted railing of the fire escape, relying on her combat boots to keep her ankles from breaking when she landed. She fell onto her side after hitting the ground, but was instantly up again, running towards the front end of the apartment building.

She rounded the corner, and hadn't gone more than ten feet when she stopped abruptly, hand against the wall to help slow herself.

Amelia stood, frozen in her tracks, not breathing even though she had just run down ten flights of stairs. There was an old-fashioned, navy blue car just in front of the apartment entrance. There was a tall man in a business suit standing by it, and as she watched, her mother came outside, with a suitcase in hand. Her eyes widened, shocked and horrified, as she kissed him on the cheek and handed him the suitcase. He opened the passenger side door for her, then put the suitcase in the trunk. Then he himself took the driver's seat. There was a hum as the engine started and the lights turned on.

Amelia slowly sank to the ground, taking in shaky and shallow breaths, as the car pulled away from the curb, and drove off down the empty street.

"Amelia!" Kelly came running around the corner, stopping just short enough as not to trip over her. "Amelia?" she asked, concerned at seeing her friend looking so helpless and afraid. Amelia Michelle Harper didn't do helpless and afraid. She was too much of a warrior for it. "What happened?"

A few quiet tears were forming in her eyes. One rolled down her face, and she said, in a raspy and shaky whisper that was barely audible:

"She's gone."

***

This is kinda creepy. I started this chapter a week ago, and typed about 1700 words of it, but didn't do much until yesterday (It's like 1:00 in the morning here). I was on and off the computer between about noon and midnight, and I got out over two thousand words in that time. That's a complete record for me. I'm usually lucky if I can do 200 words in a day, let alone ten times as many in less than six hours.

Anyway, like I said, the next chapter will be more Matrix-oriented. R+R!! : )